


The Scars Remain

by Capucine



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Distrust, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Harm to Children, Pain, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd, aka the Red Hood, has been taken by the Joker. Bruce can only hope he makes it in time--but that's only the beginning.</p>
<p>If he had a second chance at raising Jason, would he take it?</p>
<p>He doesn't know the answer to that--but he will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is an age regression/de-aging fic I've been bouncing around? Plus, it is PTSD Awareness month, and kids are often not acknowledged or diagnosed.

It was definitely not what Bruce had been hoping to find when Red Hood sent out a distress signal. He knew enough to know that Jason would almost rather die than send out a distress signal, especially to everyone in their family.

So it had to be serious.

The signs of a fight at the last location were clear. The shattered remains of Jason’s helmet, the blood, the smashed boxes—Jason hadn’t gone down easy.

And Bruce’s heart leapt in his throat when Dick held up a card—a playing card.

The Joker.

“I found it over there.” Dick’s voice was grave, somewhat subdued.

This couldn’t happen again. It was no wonder why Jason would send out a distress signal now—he was definitely in distress.

If not dead.

“We need to find him. Now,” Bruce said, and Dick nodded, radioing in to Tim and Damian back in the cave, just back from a patrol together.

Babs was in Star City at the moment, but Tim relayed the urgent message to Cass, Steph, and Harper. 

Bruce had to keep control of what was going on. He couldn’t just let this happen again, he didn’t know how he could bear it—how he could justify not killing the Joker. How he could live with it.

He would. He might. He wouldn’t kill, he hoped, he wouldn’t—that was a precipice he didn’t want to leap over.

And they had to find Jason, before Joker did whatever he was going to do to him. Or before Jason killed the Joker. Bruce wasn’t an optimist in believing the Joker would make it out alive if Jason somehow got free.

The clues were slim, as he and Dick canvassed the scene.

It would be hours before they got anything, and it wasn’t from the scene itself.

\--

“Batman, you’re going to want to see this,” was the warning he got.

The image brought up on the screen was a figure with a bag over its head—likely male, likely a boy. It was hard to tell scale wise how old the boy was. He was very securely tied to a chair, ankles lashed to the legs, arms tightly bound out of sight, ropes around his chest and thighs. 

The head had been slumped before, but jerked up at the sound of a voice.

“Wake up for Daddy! That’s right, Batdaddy wants to see you! Say hi!”

Joker’s voice sent chills through Bruce. That couldn’t be Jason—the figure was too small. By a lot. And he could see the boy pull at the ropes fruitlessly, not a word, but there were muffled grunts.

“Aw, not talkative? That’s a very rude way to act towards your daddy,” Joker mocked, and his face was in the camera then, death white, blood red lips, hair the color of obscene mold and rot. “I’ll talk to him, then.”

He grinned at the camera, teeth too long, yellow against the white of his face. “Hello, Batsy! Our adoptive child is acting up _again_ , so I thought I’d punish him. I want to make sure you feel like you’re involved in the parenting, though, so I’m sending you the video! Enjoy!”

His skin crawled as the boy tugged at the ropes, head jerking, muffled sounds that seemed to grow higher in pitch as Joker’s footsteps, loud enough to be heard, marked his moving closer. Joker had a crowbar in hand, and raised it.

“Where? Where is he?!” Bruce demanded, forcing it out in a desperate breath.

“I don’t know yet!” came the reply from Tim, more high-pitched than he expected.

The crowbar thudded, and the scream couldn’t be entirely muffled by whatever gag the boy had on under that bag. The next thud had already reduced the boy to thrashing and screaming sobs.

The creak of the chair was audible, and Bruce’s heart felt like it might seize up. He kept his focus, trying to somehow ascertain where this was taking place, how to find Jason or the boy or whoever the Joker was torturing and save him—

“Got it!” Tim’s voice cut in, and the coordinates were on his and Dick’s screens instantly. Bruce felt like he was driving before he’d even gotten the coordinates clearly figured out in his mind. He had to get to the boy, and he could tell Dick felt the same, silent, solemn.

The building was big, dark, a shady warehouse. Like so many that Bruce had seen, been in, fought in…the general problem with Gotham was it could be death for so many businesses, especially in certain areas of the city. Hence, a lot of empty, dilapidated buildings.

Dick was not quite in his shadow, but clearly ready to back him up.

They slipped in silently, and the silence was quickly shattered by a scream.

The cackling of the Joker made Bruce’s blood boil as he heard the frightened sobbing, clearly, definitely a child, and as he swooped in, he could see the boy was smaller than he’d realized—no chance of being an adult.

“Ah, Batsy, you made it,” Joker crowed, close to the boy and laying the crowbar across his throat, ignoring the way the boy hiccupped and was obviously trying to contain his gasping breaths. “Now, I don’t know about you, but sometimes I just want to take the head off this kid, am I right? He’s always acting out! It’s enough to drive any parent mad!”

“Let him go,” Bruce said, deadly intention behind the words.

“Why, Batman, don’t tell me you’ve gone soft! This is why our precious baby bird misbehaves so much,” Joker chided, suddenly yanking the crowbar up, ignoring the choked whimper from the boy. “You have to discipline—spare the rod, spoil the child—and this one’s smelling pretty ripe.”

Bruce had to keep Joker’s attention on him—Nightwing would make his move soon. Even though every bone in his body was screaming at him to charge Joker, he stayed still. “Joker, think about what you’re doing. If you think I destroyed you last time—“

“A body cast is nothing compared to what I did to him then—and what I’m going to have to do now to set him straight. Tell me, how do you think being dead worked for him? I’d say it was certainly an attitude adjustment!”

The boy’s body was fighting to move, as the crowbar was slowly cutting off his air.

And thank god, that was when Nightwing moved in, slamming a wingding into Joker’s head. Then he didn’t stop there, the crowbar clattering to the ground as the Joker tried to make some joke and instead Dick slammed his fist in his face.

Bruce moved to the boy. He had a batarang out quickly, and cut through the bonds. The boy immediately swung at him, the bag not even off his head. So Bruce grabbed him, throwing him over his shoulder as the sound of guns being aimed at them just barely made it into his awareness. “Nightwing! Move!”

Dick seemed hesitant for only a moment, before following after Bruce, leaving a beaten Joker in their wake. The bullets that rained down made Bruce protectively shield the boy, as they raced to cover.

Dick seized the boy from him as Bruce made sure to keep them covered—his cape was a better shield than what Nightwing had, after all.

Out the door, to the sound of Joker’s insane laughter, to the Batmobile.

“Watch the boy, I’m going back to look for Jason—“ Bruce started, knowing that it would be just like the Joker to throw them off like this.

But the boy was kicking up a fuss, trying to fight Dick, and Dick quickly pulled the bag off his head—and Bruce had to stop.

Beneath the blood, the snot, the tears, and the young, young face…he recognized Jason’s eyes. Blue as they’d once been.

He had a gag shoved between his teeth, soaked in saliva and some blood. Dick got it off fast.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kid, you’re safe,” Dick was reassuring.

“Jason?” Bruce managed, staring.

“Get away! I’ll fucking bite you on the dick!” Jason snapped at them shrilly, a high note of panic in the tone. He was tiny, but he attempted to kick Dick in the crotch all the same.

“B, it can’t be Jason,” Dick insisted, warding off the attack. “This kid’s like five.”

“I’m eight!” Jason snarled back, “And it’s none of your fucking business if I’m Jason or not!”

“…it is Jason,” Dick murmured, a bit shocked. He caught the boy’s wrists, and said, “Hey, Jay? You remember anything about, oh, Batman or Robin?”

The answer was an inarticulate snarl and an attempt to bite Dick.

“B, what do we do?” Dick said, at a bit of a loss.

As was Bruce. If this was Jason, he was clearly terrified, traumatized, and they needed to get him out of here. If it wasn’t, Jason was still in there.

“Take him back. I’ll look to make sure.”

Dick nodded. “I’ll send Red Robin and Black Bat your way. She’s back in town.”

Jason screamed when Dick closed the Batmobile, but the sound was quickly cut off. Bruce trusted that Dick would calm him down, anyone would be like that in the current circumstances.

They would find out for sure if it was Jason. He doubted the Joker could come up with a convincing lookalike like that, but they still had to be sure.

And if Jason was still in there, time was of the essence.

Batman didn’t wait for backup. He went back in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finds it hard to believe that this is Jason, in some ways. In others, it's very easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a touch weird.

Bruce had searched the entire building, Black Bat and Red Robin swept any parts he could have missed, but besides clearing out the Joker’s goons, there was no sign of anyone. No sign of _Jason_ , at least at his normal size and age and all that.

The Joker had been taken into custody. Black Bat had broken his jaw, along with his femur, the left. He was in no state to hurt anyone.

Bruce noticed the more protective way she stood near Tim, but made no mention. He had a feeling the Joker had made threats he shouldn’t have. Not to Cass.

They were tired by the time they got back to the cave, and it appeared they were only going to be more tired.

Damian had taken up his station in the middle of the cave, watching everywhere with an angry yet determined expression.

Dick was nearby, holding bandages in place. “Hey, B.”

Bruce watched them both for a moment, then asked, “Where’s the boy?”

“Jason,” Dick corrected, at the same time as Damian hissed, “ _Todd._ ”

“It’s definitely him?” Tim said somberly, a tone that Bruce wasn’t certain of. Though, after what this Jason went through…

“Yeah. Got his DNA tested before he bit me and hid.” Dick said this rather nonchalantly. The blood soaking through his bandage said it was not a small deal.

“He’s somewhere in the cave?” Bruce asked. He didn’t see a small boy anywhere, but if he remembered correctly, Jason was excellent at hiding.

And very determined.

“With his injuries, he really shouldn’t be—“ Tim started, something nervous in his tone.

“He’s going to have significantly worse injuries if he shows his face,” Damian growled. His shoulders were surprisingly tense, and Bruce could easily guess he really didn’t like Jason biting Dick. They were…close. That was one thing Bruce could assure himself of when he wondered about Damian’s redeemability. 

“Damian, you are not to harm him. Ever.” Bruce said this with a stern tone, and he could see Damian glower at that. Bruce himself was honestly a little surprised that he’d attached the modifier, but Damian didn’t give him a chance to dwell on it.

“I will cut his hands off if he tries to bite Grayson again,” Damian grumbled.

Bruce sighed. This was definitely not going to be easy, and he had to ignore the nervous swell in his chest and not think on the implications of an eight year old Jason Todd. He couldn’t afford to dwell right now.

He walked down the length of the cave, saying, “Jason, please come out. We’re not going to hurt you. You need medical attention.”

He thought he heard a whisper of sound, and Jason probably wouldn’t be nearly as good at hiding in this state, despite being smaller, so he eyed that direction surreptitiously.

He could see Cass had caught on to it, and gave him a slight nod. She would get him if Bruce got him to reveal himself, or be distracted.

“Jason, I know what happened today probably scared you a lot. The Joker is a very bad man, and we would never have let him have you—that’s why we came. Now, your injuries need treated.”

He thought he heard of huff of breath, distrustful and scoffing. 

That was definitely a Jason he knew.

Suddenly he heard a frightened flurry of, “No, get the fuck away, no, fuck you!”

Cass had found him. He could see her perched in front of a tiny alcove, a spot in the rocks that was deep enough for a small child to hide in. She wasn’t reaching in and dragging him out, simply looking in. “It’s okay,” she promised.

“No, it’s fucking not! I’m not coming out, you can go fuck yourselves!”

The high-pitched, squeaky little voice was not quite matching up with the words. Bruce came in the general direction, but stayed back. Too many people would freak Jason out further.

His next threat dropped the c-word, and Bruce could see Tim blanch at that.

Cass, however, was unaffected. “I have food. And a blanket. And you’re very cold.”

This seemed to put some hesitance in Jason. Finally, he murmured, almost defeated, “What do I gotta do?”

“Come out of there,” Cass responded.

There was a small shuffling sound, and when Jason appeared, head poking out warily, Bruce could see he was worse off than the average person would presume. Blood was still streaked on his head, his eyes were a little unfocused, and his face was pale, among other smaller details.

Definitely Jason, though.

Cass let him come out in his own time, watching patiently. Bruce was faintly reminded of a mother cat or some animal along those lines. Jason wobbled out on hands and knees, looking around suspiciously. His eyes landed on Cass first, murmuring, “’m hungry.”

Cass offered him a hand up, and he took it, not using his right arm. She gently directed him towards the med bay.

As soon as he was settled with a blanket and Cass got him a cup of soup she heated in the microwave (Alfred would be appalled), Bruce slowly approached.

Jason tensed at seeing him, eyes darting back towards Cass. “No. Lady, you promised—“

“He’s not going to hurt you. He’s going to help you,” Cass assured, gesturing towards the blood on him. “He’s going to clean it up.”

Jason seemed to consider this, but kept his blanket wrapped tightly around him.

Dick wasn’t saying anything, though Bruce could see Damian’s angry posture. Tim, however, did say something, murmuring, “Do you need my help?”

Bruce sighed as Jason tensed back again as he came closer, and said, “Get Agent A, please.”

So Tim slipped off towards the upstairs, presumably to explain the situation without Jason hearing. Tim planned well like that.

Bruce simply watched his son. Jason was younger than Bruce had ever known him, eyes flickering as he maintained his suspicious look and also clearly needed to lie down. He definitely looked like the kind of kid that would bite Dick.

Jason wouldn’t allow Bruce near him, that much he could tell. He didn’t trust him. He’d barely trusted him when he first met him, if one could call that trust.

He had threatened to hit him with a tire iron, after all.

And Jason as an eight year old had just been through a hell at the hands of the Joker. Bruce could feel the anger swelling in his chest as he thought of it, could Jason’s sobbing and his screams, and he knew it hadn’t been easy not to kill the Joker when he had killed Jason as Robin.

His suspicion was that that was the Joker’s aim. To get him to kill him. Or at least to intend to. And have to shatter everything he was.

He just…he couldn’t. He would lose himself, and he’d already lost so many people and things in his life. He couldn’t lose himself too.

Tim returned with Alfred, who looked at Jason with a sadness in his eyes. He gently approached, saying, “Hello, young sir. Would you permit me to help with your wounds?”

Jason took in Alfred’s appearance, the look on his face, and gave a hesitant nod. 

Bruce got the suspicion that Jason had decided he could take on Alfred in a fight if he had to. Like he saw an elderly man he only had to kick in the kneecap.

Jason’s injuries had Bruce seeing red: a concussion, split skin on his scalp, some fractures of some sort, huge blossoming bruises, and a scared look hidden in that defensive posture.

They would need a more thorough medical examination, honestly, because there was only so much Alfred could do, especially given he wasn’t familiar with Jason already in his current body.

Bruce stepped away to cool down. He didn’t want to put Jason further on edge.

He also had to figure out how the hell the Joker did this, so he started reviewing the data Dick had pulled. He had to focus elsewhere right now.

He waited for Alfred and Cass to be done calming Jason and getting him situated.

Then, he would watch like a hawk to be sure it wasn’t a trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having a fun weekend dealing with food poisoning. Crying about the dumbest shit and then cracking up cause my BF was eating corn, so...wrote part of this during that time. Sorry if it makes no sense!

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. I am going to continue this one, but, if you've read Our Favorite Timmers, I want you to know that this is a rather different story. Some similar elements, but very different in plot and ending.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
